A Sorta Fairytale
by sakuyavalentine
Summary: Microfic collection. Guilford x Cornelia.
1. Your Guardian Angel

**Your Guardian Angel**

.

"…I will never let you fall.  
I'll stand up with you forever.  
I'll be there for you through it all  
even if saving you sends me to Heaven…"

- "Your Guardian Angel" - _Red Jumpsuit Apparatus_

.

It was well past nightfall when she finally got away, fingertips tingling from lack of blood flow and wrists mildly sore. Her long lavender locks were a mess, falling out of the partial up do and her cheeks were lightly dusted with dirt. It would be enough to break most woman graced with her beauty and comfortable lifestyle. But not her, so was the mind and body of a warrior within her since long ago.

Battle-callused hands rubbed her face. To a casual observer, it looked as though she hadn't slept in days - which she hadn't; shadows framing deep, glazed, violet eyes, wrinkles where there hadn't been before, a usually straight-backed body hunched over, even only slightly so.

Her heels clicking against the metal high-rise, a reverberating _tik, tik, tik, _seemed to be the only sound in the night. The cars made no deep rumbles or blaring honks, even the distant flames of Hadron Blasters and regular gunfire erupted in silent explosions. Men and women, old before their time, disappeared like the snuffing of a candle, without so much as a gentle hiss. It was as though the world had stopped breathing. And the princess discovered that so too had she.

Her hands touched cool metal as she leaned precariously over a bar with Eleven streets intersecting below in a sparkling labyrinth of Britannian inspired tailor shops and cafés and offices. From among the royal blue of velvet-sky, dappled by diamond-stars and planetoids, her eyes caught a spark. A burst of pink - the cotton candy shade of dear Euphie's undulating tresses - that rather than imploding into itself and vanishing, a momentary flash of memory and solace, the spark grew from a translucent marble to a blinding sun among them.

Throwing her arms up across her face to protect her sensitive eyes, Cornelia's fair ears pricked up of their own accord. Carried by an gentle wind, a single voice - a wish - echoed through the stillness, encircling her heart like a frozen claw.

"Princess…Please live on…"

_He went on still farther, and all was so quiet that a breath could be heard, and at last he came to the tower, and opened the door into the little room where briar-rose was sleeping. _

_There she lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away, and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But as soon as he kissed her, briar-rose opened her eyes and awoke, and looked at him quite sweetly._

"Live…"

And if anyone was watching the fearsome princess, they would have witnessed something rare indeed: the flower that bloomed in the desert, as tears, silent as the night, rolled down her cheeks.

. _fin_.

**Disclaimer: **Cornelia and Guilford belong to Sunrise. Italic text from the Brothers Grimm's "Sleeping Beauty".


	2. A Sorta Fairytale

**A Sorta Fairytale**

.

"…_like a good book  
__I can't put this day back."_

- Tori Amos "_A Sorta Fairytale_"

.

As a child, her mother always read her fairytales and for a while, Cornelia Li Britannia believed those stories held some sort of validity to her everyday life for she was, without a doubt, a princess. Perhaps she was unlike the damsels presented in colourful pictures - ones with long, flowing hair, at the mercy of a wicked sorcerer or fire-breathing dragon - but a princess nevertheless.

But as she grew older, trading her lace-trimmed dresses in for fitted cotton - less restricting in battle - and manicured fingernails for calloused palms and flowery perfumes for the rancid stench of blood, she realized that stories were just that. Make-belief worlds of perfection allowing momentary escape from a reality of violence and tragedy.

But, she supposed, the stubborn part of her had never let go of her dreams, dreams of riding into the sunset with a gallant knight, dreams she would never admit to.

Perhaps that is why, during the seizure of Area 18, when she first walked into the control room at the topmost corner of the Imperial transport, she'd been so drawn to the man who would, one day, offer his life for her.

She was young at the time, and so was he, both religious in their loyalty to the empire as a whole, and to the family, her family, that made it so grand. Her hair had been longer back then, a sweep of lavender that flowed over her shoulders, dusting the small of her back. His, ironically, had been shorter, only just hovering above the collar of his shirt.

They called him the "Spearhead of the Empire" for his merciless, and impeccable, tactics in battle. Numbers spoke the term out of fear, Britannians out of respect, and subordinates with a hint of a smirk at the explicit rumour they'd attached to it.

But she, second princess and heir to the most powerful nation in the world, more a warrior than a woman, cared not about acquired nicknames or laughable gossip. She and her pride strode, back straight and chin high, towards the be speckled soldier and claimed no man, respectable or not, would order her around. It was she who was in charge here, and she did _not _care for his attitude as he dropped to one knee with a humble bow of his head.

What attitude? he wondered, still a hint of a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. He was merely showing respect to his superior.

It was respect she could do without, thank you very much.

They made a good team, the two of them, and others could not help but wonder if their distaste for one another held some of the responsibility for that. He was a master pilot, and her head could inflate a balloon. Neither would willingly submit and it made for good fun. In fact, they soon found themselves in a world of their own, enjoying a dance to lead and follow while the nation expanded around them.

It was a tale for the books, if anyone had taken the initiative to put it down. Perhaps not like the ones she remembered from youth, but life was often grander than fiction anyway, wasn't it?

Perhaps he was right, she mused from her spot on the blanket, beneath the monstrous shadow, larger still, cast by both their faithful "steeds" side-by-side. Beyond them the sun blazed angrily over the peach sand, heat travelling upwards in hazy waves.

But if there are no dragons or wizards, what use is a knight to a princess who can defend herself? He would most certainly not take on a position, more a demotion than promotion, and become something of a trophy.

Afterwards she'd laugh, and truth be told it wasn't a very nice laugh. Hers was sandpaper rough with the depth of a man's chortle; not at all the wind chime tinkle of bubblegum-haired Euphie. But it came with the territory, he supposed, and he liked it just the same. He liked her too, if he was going to be honest - and he wasn't; at least not to any naked ears.

If asked, if tortured, he would say the gentle sway of her hips as she walked did not bring a flush to his cheeks, nor did her eyes, a piercing shade of wine, bear into him with hatred and - perhaps, quite possibly - a stirring of love as well, causing his knees to tremble and his steady resolve, that of absolute devotion and malice, to falter.

Carefully, as if handling something alive, like a small animal or child, Cornelia held out a bundle of soft cloth in the palm of her hand. Inside was a badge; a cross of royal blue and pure gold, with ivory wings spread wide and the imperial crest carved into the face.

A knight is the highest position, second only to the imperial family, and reserved for Purists alone. He would be her advisor, her confidant, so much more than a trophy. Would he then, famed as he was for his services to her - their - country, put down his soul for her, should she request it?

His fingers, with a gentle swish of rubbing satin, folded around the brooch, feeling the weight of the gold and the responsibility it symbolized. Crossing one arm over his chest, and the other behind his back, Guilford knelt in the sand, sliding slightly.

"Without fail, Your Highness." And there was no grin to be worn.

With two fingers pressed together in a Scout's salute, she tapped each shoulder gently. It was a makeshift knighting, but it would do well for the time.

They settled back on the blanket, close, though not too close should any watching dare to assume something and began the strenuous task of waiting for a replacement energy filter, for his would last only a short while longer, and hers was dry as the air around them, which, of course was his fault.

He warned her to go back, he repeated for the time that numbered as many as grains beyond them. Again, that harsh cackle-laugh; she'd soon be dead than allow him to claim all the glory. But even so, if it were not for the heat weighing heavily on the battlefield, rotting the corpses at the rate it spoils meat, she might actually enjoy it here, among the world's first history. Might.

In time, the silence swallowed them. He shifted to shake the pins and needles from his toes. She fell back to stare at the darkening sky. The stars appeared, one by one, forming constellations she knew none of the names of. Cornelia raised her arm, as if to pluck one of the diamond specks from eternal black, and closed her hand around air. With a tilt of his head, Guilford stared down at her, his glasses slipping along his nose. She smiled, a warm expression that lasted only a moment.

Perhaps fairytales were stars: dreams that seemed possible until reached for. Children loved them because it gave them something to hope for in a world without hope. Maybe, even a princess like her, with all the wealth and power in the world, would never end with a happily ever after.

But, it didn't hurt to try…

_. fin ._


	3. She Will Be Loved

**She Will Be Loved**

.

"_I know where you hide,  
__alone in your car.  
__Know all of the things  
__that make you who you are…"_

_- _"She Will Be Loved" - _Maroon 5_

.

He found her near the window, knees drawn to her chin, held by her arms, as she stared almost longingly out at the sky, like a young child awaiting Santa Claus. There was no need to knock before entering; she wouldn't have answered anyway, but he nevertheless stood by the door, back straight, hands clasped, at the ready should she need him.

She wanted to be alone. He knew it, but he didn't leave. Her despair was too great, wafted from her like heat. It made him sad too. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner was almost deafening in the silence, each passing second like a gunshot and he saw her cringe at the thought. Gunshots, blood, chaos, death…

The whole world watched Hell break loose; he'd seen it, and so had she. Both had frozen in fear, too far from the epicentre of the disaster to even attempt countermeasures. Yet, he mourned not the hundreds of Elevens who'd died that afternoon. No, he never _enjoyed _taking a life, but it was punishment for their silly rebellion, and the princess' orders. The military had no choice but to obey.

No, his sorrow matched hers, _his _princess. His sorrow was for the girl who loved the world, the girl whose spirit was as vibrant as her hair, whose voice was a sweet melody and would never order genocide. But she had, and in response, than mongrel Zero - _Zero, _he cursed that fiend to burn in the fires of Hell - killed her.

Across the room, Cornelia's shoulders shook, another storm of tears prepared to fall. This time, unlike the last, and the time before, she would not weep alone. Sensing her thoughts, her needs, he neglected his post, crossing the stretch of cream-coloured carpet in a few swift strides.

Her fragile form found his arms the moment he approached, half jumping, half falling from the plush window seat. The force sent him stumbling, and gently, he knelt, bringing her to the floor, hand moving rhythmically up and down her back as she began to cry. Her makeup - what little of it she wore - ran, leaving wet, black spots on his jacket, and her chest heaved painfully, sobs muffling into him.

He didn't say anything to her. There was nothing to say. It was not okay, and it wouldn't be. Yes, life would become liveable again, but the pain would never go away. Euphie suffered when she died, and considering her actions prior to death, she may or may not be in a better place. He wasn't going to lie, not to her. She didn't need that.

It was a while before she stopped crying, but eventually she did. Because her chest hurt too much, or because her tears had simply dried up, he wasn't sure. Afterwards, she remained in his arms, warm, strong, and comforting. He'd never held her before - she'd never wanted him to - but his embrace brought her comfort, made her feel safe. She shifted slightly, so that she was nestled in the crook of his arm, her head pressed against his chest where she could hear the steady beating of his heart.

"Everyone I love has left me," she said finally, voice quiet, raspy, her throat dry from crying. "First Lady Marianne, whom I loved more than my own mother, was killed, then Lelouch and Nunnally were sent here, only to die during the war. Clovis, my sweet little brother, was murdered by Zero, and now Euphie…now he's killed Euphie too!" Her arms wound themselves around his back, holding him close.

"I don't want to lose anyone else," she continued, and raised her chin slightly, enough to meet his eyes. "As your princess, I order you to never leave me."

A melancholy smile played across his lips, and he stroked her violet hair gently. Hoping she wouldn't soon after strike him, he placed the softest of kisses on her forehead.

"Yes, Your Highness. I shall remain by your side until you wish otherwise, even if I have to crawl out of my own grave."

.

**Disclaimer: **Cornelia, Guilford and all other _Code Geass_ characters belong to Sunrise.


	4. Pieces

**Warning: **This chapter contains hints of mature subject matter (not enough to deserve a higher rating I don't believe).

**Pieces**

.

"_I come to you in pieces  
__so you can make me whole…"_

_- _"Pieces" - _Red_

.

She looked different, he thought, gazing at her with the forlorn look of a lover.

She looked different in civilian clothes. And with her hair up. A heap of waved violet, haphazardly pinned, curled strands framing her face like a wispy curtain. Her trimmed body was clad in a common skirt and blouse; to fit in she said.

"Fit in?" he asked, barely able to repress his surprise.

She turned to him slowly, and Guilford saw the unshed tears in her eyes, making them sparkle in the dim lamp light. With a small nod, she smiled, though it was not a smile of joy.

"I'm going to find evidence of Geass and clear Euphie's name," Cornelia explained. She'd confided only in Guilford the nature of Zero's identity. He'd sworn to take that information with him to the grave, or until Zero was unmasked in public, whichever came first.

It was difficult to swallow. "How do you intend to do that?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a roll of her shoulders. "But I was never able to find Lady Marianne's killer; I don't intend to make the same mistake with Euphie. So I'm leaving tonight. I don't know where I'll go, and no one must find me." She looked up, met his eyes with a firm, yet mournful, gaze. "Not even you."

He kept his jaw straight, lips pressed together, biting back the urge to ask why, why would she leave him like this? Instead, he gave a curt nod. "Who will govern Area Eleven in your absence?"

Cornelia walked by him, and he wondered if she simply couldn't bare to look at him. Was this was as hard for her as it was for him?

"It is likely a new viceroy will be selected once word of my disappearance becomes public. One of my brothers or sisters who as of yet govern no other area, no doubt. However, that might take some time. So, until the new viceroy arrives, I leave Area Eleven to you, Guilford."

Eyes wide, he half-bowed, arm across his chest, humbly. "This is…a great honour, Your Highness. However, I am a soldier, not a leader."

She turned and approached him until they were barely touching. She smelled of wildflowers and his vision swam momentarily. She'd never worn perfume before. "You are the Spearhead of the Empire, aren't you? Was it not you who aided in countless operations to expand Britannia?"

"Once upon a time."

Her fingers played nostalgically with the lapel of his coat, tracing the pin she'd bestowed upon him so long ago. Her knight. "A good leader is a good soldier; someone who can command and strategize and execute. I can think of no one better to lead this dismal country that you." She looked up, again that sad smile. "It is why I chose you as my knight in the first place."

Being as it was possibly the last time they would ever see one another, he neglected the regular duties and formalities of his position and twirled a strand of violet around his finger, releasing it to watch it bounce and twist beside her cheek. "Is that the only reason?"

"No...I..." His voice was a whisper, and she found it hard to breath. Her lungs were crushed by an unknown force, a sadness, mourning, in leaving tonight; a guilt for never admitting, not to him, not to herself, the true nature of her being: a woman.

And perhaps, she thought a moment later, it was this true nature that stopped her from striking him in the face when his lips pressed so ever softly against hers. It was a gentle a kiss, merely the brief brushing of lips, the kind a parent placed upon a child's cheek before bed. Nothing spectacular, yet it had had the power to weaken her knees, and break her iron resolve. She kissed him again after that, firmly this time, as a thin stream of tears found their way down her cheeks.

One last night. One night to unleash her inner lady, to strip away the guise of a soldier, of a ruthless commander with no fear, who shed tears for no one. One night to love her knight as her did her, to live happily ever after.

She looked different, he thought, gazing down at her in the darkness. Devoid of all royal and common raiment and deception, laid out beneath in truth and love, soft and fragile with the faintest of tears in her eyes - tears of joy, sorrow, or a combination between. The way only he was privileged to see.

She looked different, he thought, but she looked beautiful.

.

**Disclaimer: **Cornelia, Guilford and all other _Code Geass_ characters belong to Sunrise.


	5. Just a Dream

**Just A Dream**

.

"_Everybody's saying  
__he's not coming home now.  
__This can't be happening to me.  
__This is just a dream…"_

_- _"Just A Dream" - _Carrie Underwood_

.

Suffice to say, Cornelia never regretted the way she lived her life. Since the time she was small, she'd neglected the usual behaviour of a princess, the kind that her sisters took to so easily.

Instead, she frowned upon formal parties and scrunched her nose whenever she was told to attend one. Laced dresses with round skirts and low necks and shoes that made her feet hurt and the drab conversation with people who really didn't give a damn but pretended to wasn't for her. She preferred the adrenaline rush that came with battle, the fitted suits and boots, the Knightmares and gunfire, the stench of blood and sweat and iron. She revelled in the respect and fear of her subordinates, the fear of her enemies and surprise from her subjects, for how can a princess, a woman, be so callous?

No, she never regretted living that way, without batting an eye in thought of the multitude of lives she'd cut short, and the comrades she'd lost.

But sometimes it was really hard.

"He'd gone missing, even before the FLEIA was deployed," Kanon explained, face firm, but remorseful.

Cornelia felt her chest constrict. The room began to spin, colours swirling together like paint down the drain, voices muddling together. She heard bits and pieces, but her brother's tone left no room for speculation: Guilford, her knight, her confidant, her…was dead…

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and breakdown, but that was impossible. It was not in her character. So instead she took a deep, trembling breath, and remained calm, biting back her emotions as Kururugi requested Knight of One status, and Schneizel declared usurpation. She listened to the wickedness in her brother's voice, the same kind she'd heard in Lelouch. At least for now.

When at last she excused herself, tired and more than a little disturbed, the words of politics were lost to her. She no longer cared really. Euphie was gone, now Guilford was gone too.

"You promised," she growled, hand balled and trembling. "You promised you'd never leave me."

Damn him! She thought, slamming her fist against the mattress. Damn him and his word! He was a lying fool, worthless, undeserving to be called a man, much less her knight! How dare he betray her? Her, second princess of Britannia!

Her fist struck the pillow over and over, clawed at it, threatened to tear it apart until her knees gave out and she fell, face first, into the linens, the thick cotton silencing her cries. Gut-wrenching cries too, powered by the loss of her sister, and now her knight. She was alone, alone because of Zero, Lelouch, whoever he was. Lelouch gave the command to kill the Japanese. Lelouch shot Euphie. Lelouch manipulated Guilford. Lelouch commanded Kururugi to live - she heard the audio recordings - and to live, that Eleven fired the FLEIA, the FLEIA that killed Guilford…

Lelouch. Lelouch. _Lelouch_.

It was all his fault.

.

**Disclaimer: **Cornelia, Guilford and all other _Code Geass_ characters belong to Sunrise.


	6. Time of Dying

**Time of Dying**

.

"_On the ground I lay  
__motionless, in pain.  
__I can see my life  
__flashing before my eyes…"_

_- _"Time of Dying" - _Three Days Grace_

.

She thought she'd die nobly. Death in battle, at the hands of a worthy opponent, perhaps? Or she'd die of old age, with grown children, maybe a grandchild or two - a new thought that began cropping up into her head during her time spent away from Area Eleven.

It hurt. It really did. The physical pain of the bullets nestling themselves in her back, and the emotional pain, the pain of betrayal. How could he…? Schneizel…the brother she'd once loved as Euphie loved Lelouch. A child's love, damaged if carried into adulthood, but, dare she say, cute in youth.

His eyes were cold when she'd looked into them. The eyes of a robot, something inhuman. Where, she wondered, had everyone's sanity gone? Lelouch began a rebellion, Schneizel became a terrorist, worse than the Elevens, Kururugi…he was dead now without Euphie.

A distance away, her rapier glinted in the glow of the computer monitor. A smirk danced upon her lips. Maybe she'd gone a little mad too, defending the innocent against fascism and dictatorship. It was not like her, to care for the little ones.

She closed her eyes when her vision began to swim and darken. She was in pain, but she wasn't afraid. Maybe she'd die nobly after all.

At the very least, she would be with Guilford and Euphemia again. And that was something, wasn't it?

.

**Disclaimer: **Cornelia and all other _Code Geass characters belong to Sunrise._


	7. I'll Stand By You

**I'll Stand by You**

.

"_Don't be ashamed to cry.  
__Let me see you through  
_'_cause I've seen the dark side too…"_

_- _"I'll Stand by You" - _The Pretenders_

.

It was bright.

_Is this Heaven?_ she wondered. Her arm ached as she tried to shield her eyes, assuring her it was not. She was alive. Wracked with pain, but alive. How? Why?

Schneizel…He planned to become emperor. To rule the world through fear and terrorism. He shot her, gun barrels concealed in the wall panels. Shot her dead, hadn't he? Why would he spare her?

Because he had no desire to? Of course not. He'd changed, that much was certain, but he'd never been a killer, at least, not of those he cared about. And he did, she believed, care about her, somewhere, deep behind the twisted logic and fractured idea of peace.

The sheets hugged her tightly, swishing when she moved like small gusts of wind. She turned her head to the side, neck stiff and body unresponsive. It would take a while, she knew, to return to normal, but she would. Eyes sore, she gazed hazily around, making out a silhouette beside her, seated, hunched slightly as if heavy.

Viletta? No, the figure was too wide, shoulders broad, tapered waist. The body of a man. She couldn't really see.

Sensing her gaze, he reached out, almost hesitantly, awkwardly, his movements slow and broken like he was groping. What ever was the matter?

She knew she must be dreaming when at last her vision cleared, only to blur again with moisture. Either that, or she really had died. There was no other explanation.

"Guilford…" Biting her lip, she took the hand he held to her. The warm hand that had so seldom touched her. The hand that trembled with life. _Life. _He was alive.

Angry, guilty, saddened by her state, his face twisted into an expression of despair, eyes squeezed shut behind tinted glasses. He held her tightly, almost painfully so. She brought his hand to her face, brushed her lips against his thumb and fingers, felt the pulse beneath firm skin.

"Princess…" His voice cracked, sorrowful and embarrassed. Ashamed by his own actions, his own foolishness, willingly walking into Zero's hands like that, betraying his princess, his country. Now, he could not see. A fitting end, really. Blind to the truth. Blind to reality.

Her voice was soft, strained by pain but joy as well, as though too much breath would topple this dream world and she would wake to find that he was truly gone, that her brother had not rescued the man she cared for so deeply. He could not see her face, her beauty, or the tears sliding down her face.

"You would still call me that?"

Of course, he wanted to say. She was his sovereign, his goddess. Brief separation, even something as wicked as betrayal, cowardice in selfishness would not change that.

At last, a brief smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. He rarely smiled before, like she, expressing amusement through malicious grins or snickers. It looked awkward on him, too small for his face, yet somehow it was perfect.

"I promised you, Princess, I would never leave you."

.

**Disclaimer: **Cornelia, Guilford and all other _Code Geass_ characters belong to Sunrise.

**Notes: **I suppose it would have been smart to update with a chapter after editing the summary, huh?


	8. When You Say You Love Me

**When You Say You Love Me**

.

"_When you say you love me  
__do you know how I love you…"_

_- _"When You Say You Love Me" - _Josh Groban_

.

Once upon a time…

There was a time when she might have believed in it, in a place and time not important, in which her destiny was set, like a book that just needed reading. A story with a fateful beginning, almost boring descriptions to set the stage of disaster, despair and anxiety that would play out in the middle section, the conflict intended to make some kind of point and leave you to wonder if everything would be resolved in the last fifty pages.

But real life was never that simple, was it? The book could never be closed, no matter how much the tragedy makes your heart weep and want to quit. Life was more like a nightmare, something you knew would eventually end but continued on despite your cries and restraint.

Standing before a mirror, primping herself in a way she'd seldom done before, Cornelia Li Britannia, second princess of the holy empire, reduced to an insurgent during her beloved brother-turned enemy's devilish reign, wrapped the flowery scrunchy around her violet ponytail once more, holding it in place behind her head. It matched perfectly with her dress, made of the finest silks, which hugged her curves.

Outside, above the chattering songbirds and lull of passers-by, the gold church bell swung back and forth, echoing joyously and startling doves from their coup. The rustle of leaves in the wind lifted her spirit, and with it, a smile she'd come to wear so often her face looked strange without it. Strange what a revolution and small bit of news could do.

"Your Highness, shouldn't we be going?" came a deep voice from the doorway.

The garden beyond the chapel was filled with both Britannians, and Japanese, in their best dresses and suits, different in their own ways, with handkerchiefs and rice. Spotting Viletta, Cornelia knew the ceremony was about to begin.

Then the blushing bride with a belly round with life, walked the length of the aisle. The bizarreness was not lost to her, who never once truly imagined herself in this position, marrying this man.

Her hands were trembling around her bouquet, flowers of ivory scented sweetly, and her lashes glittered with crystal tears. Reaching the end, she raised her head and hand, taking the one he held to her. Eyes, more grey than blue, took her in with a draw of deep breath.

He imagined her expression, a smile-smirk between warm tears, the attempt to remain stern yet feminine beyond her control. Gently, so not to smear her makeup, his fingers found the curves of her face, the softness of her cheeks and faint lines of age around her eyes and mouth. He hoped the baby looked like her.

The minister finished his speech and closed his book with finality. Taking her face in his hands, he brought her face closer to his and pressed his lips to hers, prompting applause and cheers from their audience.

And they lived happily ever after.

_. fin ._

.

**Disclaimer: **Cornelia, Guilford and all other _Code Geass _characters belong to Sunrise.

**Notes:** This will be the final micro-fic in this collection. I hope everyone enjoyed it.


End file.
